


Coffee Shop

by SugarWithSpikes



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, David Madsen is a health inspector, Multi, No Storm, No Supernatural Powers, if life is strange was a mediocre sitcom au, very mild warren hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5073277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarWithSpikes/pseuds/SugarWithSpikes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The obligatory Coffee Shop AU that nobody ever asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> (Because every fandom needs a coffee shop AU). This is basically just the set-up and background for all the characters and the roles they'll have in this AU. Future chapters will flow much smoother and hopefully end up getting more exciting. As always, input and comments are highly appreciated.

Life in Arcadia Bay's resident coffee shop is certainly strange. Max has been trying to convince herself otherwise over the past few months, but every day it's been getting harder to do. Despite the dismissals she constantly receives upon bringing the subject up, Max knows there's something odd about their quaint little store. The lack of customers, old food and barren environment are just a few of the things that send shivers down the petite hipster's spine.

Still, she can't complain. Max is lucky to have a job there at all, as she knows quite well. If it wasn't for Kate Marsh— full-time sweetheart, part time manager — she wouldn't even be getting a pay-cheque. Being best friends with her boss is just one of the perks Max has been grateful for over the past few weeks. It's definitely a new experience, she thinks to herself.

Max is awakened from her pleasant reminiscing by the grating sound of heels — clicking over the tiled restaurant floor. The brunette glances up from the counter to see a familiar looking customer, with short blonde hair and narrowed green eyes. Max has taken the girl's order countless times by now, and every occasion is a challenge in itself. The blonde always insists on having the most complex, personalized coffee, with only the richest and best ingredients. Every day for the past month she's sauntered in, crossed her arms, and asked for a random drink with some ridiculously long name, half the time something that's not even from the menu. 

"I'll have a Venti non-fat, double shot, chocolate mocha with extra cream and no syrup," the girl states curtly, handing her barista a five dollar bill.

Max sighs, knowing that no amount of corrections or apologizes will shorten the girl's order. She starts to lift coins from the cash register when the blonde shakes her head, refusing.

"Keep the change. You clearly need it more than I do," she comments, eying Max up and down. It's almost as if she's _trying_ to elicit a reaction from the girl.

"What's the name for the cup?" Max asks tiredly. She's too exhausted to even reply to the girl's snarky comments at this point.

"Victoria. You take my order almost every day, you should know that by now." 

Max utters a blunt apology and then proceeds to turn around, going to prepare the drink. She just manages to find the proper sized plastic cup when the blonde speaks up once again.

"You don't get many people around here, do you?" Victoria asks. Her sarcastic tone has dropped, and now she sounds slightly more sincere. "Every time I come in here it's just you and two other customers around, at best."

"That's true," Max hums quietly, pouring a stream of frothy cream into the cup. "I have been doing most of the shifts around here lately, and I've noticed the same thing. You're one of my only regular customers." She glances around to look for the milk, an absent expression crossing her face.

"Do you like it here?" Victoria asks softly, tapping her finely manicured nails along the counter. There's an unusual tone in her voice which Max can't quite put her finger on.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice," Max admits. She puts the final touches on her caffeinated drink before explaining further. "Everyone who works here is like a little family, you know? It's sort of like a home away from home, as barren as it may be at times." She slides the warm cup to the patient customer and smiles. Somehow this conversation feels much better than their typical passive-aggressive arguments about coffee names.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Victoria states quickly, scooping the steaming cup away with a swipe of her hand. Before Max can say a word her back is turned, and she's strutting out of the café with her head held high. Odd, Max thinks to herself.

"She's a weird one," Taylor comments idly as she steps out from the kitchen. "Last time I worked the front counter, she refused to let me serve her, demanded that I find somebody else. And I hadn't even done anything to make her mad, she just up and told me she wanted someone else to take her order. She's such a freak."

Max stifles a laugh. "Don't be mean. I'm sure if the circumstances were different you'd get along fine. I can see a few similarities between you two."

Taylor scoffs. "Yeah, maybe if she had better taste in coffee we'd be best buds." She wipes the counter down with a cloth, stepping closer to her coworker. "Don't look now, but the creepy kid is here again. And he's staring at you."

Max sighs at the remark, shutting her eyes and covering up her face. One of the less enjoyable parts about working in the coffee shop happens to be a big-eyed brunette boy named Warren — at least she thinks that's his name — who shows up every Monday morning just to stare her down. Max knows that he doesn't try to be creepy, and he really is a decent guy. But at the same time she can't help but feel disturbed when he stumbles into the shop and sits down in his little both, typing away on his little computer without even ordering anything from the menu.

"I think he's kind of cute," Brooke comments, stepping past the two of them.

"You should tell him," Max murmurs quietly. "I could do without the extra attention."

Brooke opens her mouth to respond when the front door is thrown open, bell ringing loud enough to deafen the shop workers. Unfortunately, today just seems to be one of those days where they all get stuck with the worst possible customers. 

A flash of blue crosses Max's field of vision, flickering just in front of the Warren kid. "Can I help you?" She asks nervously, stepping out from her place behind the counter.

"I'm good!" A lively feminine voice shouts to her. "Just here to snag some free samples, I saw your advertisements outside." The tall girl starts to sprint over to the nearby table, blue locks flying as she goes. 

"Wait!" Max cries, reaching out a hand. Unfortunately, her protests go to no avail. Before she can stop her, the customer slips over the wet floor, flailing onto the free dessert table and scattering it's contents across the ground.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Taylor groans. "I _just_ mopped the floor."

"Are you okay?" Max asks worriedly, pacing over to the fallen girl. "I did try to warn you that it's slippery around this part of the floor... Sorry."

"I'm fine," she winces. "It's my fault for running in a place like this. Though a wet-floor sign really would have been nice."

The barista smiles at the words, extending a single hand. "My name's Max."

"Chloe," she responds, wrapping her fingers around the brunette's and pulling herself to a stand. "Thanks for the help." She glances at the broken table and remnants of squashed dessert which dot the floor around her. "Shit, I didn't realize I made such a mess. Sorry about that."

"It's no problem," Max assures her. Though it really is. It'll probably take a fair amount of time and money to repair the damages, resources which the little coffee shop is so short of already. 

"I don't have any money on me, but I'll repay you for the table. And the desserts," Chloe insists. She's wearing a guilty smile now, biting her lip lightly. 

Max shakes her head. "Like I said, don't worry about it. Come take a seat, you look kind of light-headed." She turns her head to glance over at Brooke, who's approaching the two of them with a bag of ice. "Thanks," Max states quietly, accepting the package from her grasp. She tenderly places it against Chloe's forehead, sighing as she does. 

Life at a coffee shop truly is strange.


	2. High Stakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter. I feel like I got the perfect mix of plot and gay for this once.

Not an hour has passed and already Max's quaint little coffee shop has descended into a state of madness. Kate Marsh — the poor girl responsible for managing this chaotic excuse of a store — stands just a few feet away, apologizing profusely to Chloe, who still seems dazed from her fall. Not to mention that the counter line-up seems to be twice it's regular size all of a sudden, filled with angry, impatient customers who want their daily dose of caffeine. Worst of all is the loud series of shouts which resonate through the cramped room. The arguing is almost too much for Max to take.

"Do you understand English? Either send me your other barista, or let me speak to your manager. Hurry up and decide." 

Max stops in her tracks, head tilted to the side. That voice sounds awfully familiar. The petite hipster pushes herself through the crowds of annoyed customers only to find Courtney arguing with one of her regulars.

"No, not the blonde. You _know_ who I'm talking about," Victoria insists, her arms crossed. From the looks of the line-up behind her, it'd appear that she's been arguing for quite some time by now.

"I'll take care of this," Max murmurs to Courtney. She slips behind the counter, barely managing to maneuver around the restless customers which flank her left and right. Unfortunately, such an action is easier said than done. Max ends up tripping up and just barely avoids falling to the ground by gripping the counter as her feet fly out from under her . She glances upwards, finally meeting her customer's gaze.

Victoria looks horribly unimpressed.

Max sighs. "Back already?" She's well aware that this isn't the time for small talk, but it isn't as if the line could possibly be getting any longer. Plus, there's something oddly familiar and comforting about the strange blonde girl. The very sight of her gives Max a heavy feeling of déjà vu.

"Yes," Victoria confirms quietly. She crosses her arms, her eyes narrow and scrutinizing. "The coffee I got here this morning was awful." 

"Then why are you back?" Max asks curiously, as she pushes herself to a stand. She hopes that the woman doesn't expect a refund. There are already enough angry customers in the shop for one day.

Victoria scoffs at the remark, her arms unfolding. "There's more to a good coffee shop than its coffee." Her statement is met with blunt silence from the brunette, who doesn't know what to say. "Like good food and good... Customer service," she continues, stammering at the last part. 

Max can't help but smile. If it weren't for her previous criticisms, Victoria would seem pretty cute right about now. Maybe she isn't such a terrible customer after all. "What can I get you?"

Victoria's beady green eyes scan over the board of menus which rest behind the counter. After a moment or so, she speaks up. "I'll have a hot chocolate _and_ she pauses, glancing at the menu board again. "A chocolate croissant." She throws a french accent in and everything, to Max's surprise and amusement.

"Oh, you really don't want to eat one of those," Max states. She turns around to prepare the hot chocolate. "All of the fancy pastries here are stale, you'd be better off buying something else." For a brief moment she wonders whether or not discouraging customers from buying is what Kate would want her to do. Probably not.

Victoria seems oddly flustered by the correction, as she stares the barista down. "Then what would you suggest instead?" 

"We have the best chocolate chip cookies," Max says with a smile, slipping two of them inside a bag. "Not as great as your croissants, I imagine, but still pretty good." She continues mixing the hot chocolate, doing her absolute best to block out the jeers of angry customers further back in line. When it's finally done, Max grabs the nearest black marker and begins to write. Against her better judgement, she scrawls "Victoria" on the cup, dotting each "i" with a subtle heart. Not that there's anything subtle about it. Max places the cup and bag of cookies on the counter, proceeding to open the register.

"Two?" Victoria asks confusedly, eyeing the bag. "I only wanted—"

"I know, one pastry," Max says, cutting her off. "The second cookie's on the house." She accepts the handful of change from the customer's hands and carefully stores it in the register, before glancing up once again.

To her surprise, Victoria is smiling. Throughout the entire month she'd been working at the coffee shop, not _once_ had she seen the blonde customer smile before. She was always either scowling or frowning, even in a best case scenario. But now she looks oddly pleased, her face taking on a light pink tinge and her eyes looking just a little less cold. "Merci," she responds, her voice unbelievably smooth. With that she turns on her heel and struts out of the store, cookies and hot-chocolate in hand. 

Max can't help but wonder how long it'll take her to notice the cheesy lettering of the cup. 

The twee hipster is awakened from her thought when a hand roughly latches onto her arm. "You need to get over here, now," Taylor insists, tugging her away from the counter.

"But all the custom—"

"Forget about the customers, Brooke can man the counter while you're gone." Before Max can protest further she finds herself being dragged away from the hoards of angry shop-goers, and into the storage room. "Some creep is going through our dumpster, and we have no idea what to do. Kate's still freaking out over what happened earlier, and Brooke is no help with this at all. What do we do?"

Finally Taylor releases Max from her gasp, and the two come to a stop near a panicked-looking Courtney. She quietly points to the window, mouthing words that the petite hipster can't seem to understand. 

Max swallows a lump in her throat, nervous to even see who could possibly be outside the window so malevolent that they'd ask _her,_ of all people for help. She braces herself against the nearby crates, and moves so that she's standing on her toes, peeking out through the tinted panes. What she sees is nothing short of horrifying.

There's a middle-aged man with wide eyes tearing through their garbage. He's crouched down over the discarded trash bags, clawing at them like a deranged raccoon. "Who is that?" Max asks quietly.

"No idea," Courtney replies. "But he's been there for at least ten minutes now, taking pictures of the store and going through all our trash." 

"Creepy," Max murmurs. There are plenty of freaks around Arcadia Bay, but this guy seems to be taking 'weird' to a whole new level. "Wait, what's he doing?" Her eyes widen as the figure outside the window gets up from the empty trash cans, and begins to circle around the building. "Oh shit."

Courtney seems to catch on immediately, as she grabs two nearby brooms. "Let's make sure he doesn't mess with any of our customers."

The three women quickly pace out from the kitchen together, Max and Courtney each wielding brooms, as Taylor scans the area. Rush hour seems to have died down by now, to Max's delight. Unfortunately, pissed off customers are the least of her worries. The man from before is standing right outside the shop now. He's peering in, and taking the occasional snap of a picture from just beyond the windows.

"What the fuck?" Taylor exclaims, staring at the scene. She whips her head around and quickly spots a mop, which she eagerly grabs onto. Her eyes narrow as she turns the handle around in one hand. "Let's get him out of here."

With that Courtney throws the door open, and the three workers run outside. They all threateningly shake their cleaning tools at him, Taylor jeering and yelling for him to go away. 

The man's eyes go wide as the bristles of Max's broom smack across his face, sending him backwards in a flurry of movement. He begins to shout obscenities, and moves his hands so that they're shielding his face. 

But Courtney whacks him with the fluffy end of her broom before he can manage to get back to a stand. Taylor's actions are similar, the dripping strings of her mop slapping across the man's back as she pokes him away. The experience might have been funny for Max, if it didn't feel so horrifying.

Luckily, the guy seems to take a hint. He eventually grabs his camera and begins running off in the other direction, although not before yelling some choice expletives at the three.

"That has to be the weirdest thing I've ever done," Max mumbles.

Taylor seems oddly pleased with herself as she takes the two brooms from her friends. "I think he got the message," she says, barely holding back laughter.

Courtney rolls her eyes as she steps back into the shop, arms crossed. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Max smiles at the exchange. _Some things never change_. 

She returns back into the store with a slight yawn, and stretches each arm to the side. Oddly enough, those few minutes of running around made her far more tired than an entire hour of work behind the counter ever could. She's just about to return to the kitchen when a voice perks up behind her.

"That was my step-dad," Chloe says blankly. "You just hit my step-dad over the head with a broom."

Max turns around with a look of utter horror, eyes widened and jaw dropped. A dozen thoughts rush to her mind, but the first one she processes is a half-assed apology. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" She starts to panic, unsure of how to explain herself. "He was going through our garbage earlier and we were just really scared he was going to hurt one of our customers, or try to break in, or—"

Chloe's laughter interrupts her mid-sentence. Max immediately quiets, both confused and mildly scared by the sound. "Don't be sorry, it was fun to watch. I was glad to see the fucker finally get what he deserved."

A wave of relief floods through Max. Maybe her little coffee shop really can survive another day- without a lawsuit. Besides, injuring an innocent man and traumatizing her newest friend was certainly not Max's goal at the time. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," she states, taking a seat next to her and Kate. "But do you know why he was snooping around here? He seemed really weird."

Chloe rolls her eyes. "David is always weird. But in all honesty, I have no idea why he'd be checking this place out. He usually just sticks to investigating bars and restaurants." Max starts to laugh, but quickly realizes that the statement wasn't meant to be a joke. _Far from a good sign_ , she thinks to herself.

"Investigating?" Kate questions from across the table. She tilts her head to side, still looking Chloe in the eye. "What's that supposed to—"

The door is thrown open before she can get her answer. In walks Ray Wells, the owner of the plaza _and_ their beloved café. Max shrinks at the very sight of him. Visits from Ray aren't typically a sign of good business.

"I've been getting complaints about some commotion down here. What's going on?" He asks, arms folded.

Kate looks relieved as she pushes herself to a stand, and quickly paces over to the man. "Thank God you're here, Sir. Some strange man— David, I think his name was— has been going through our trash and scaring off our customers. Please tell us there's something you can do about this, our business is difficult enough to manage already."

"David Madsen?" Ray asks, brows furrowed and arms crossed. "Are you referring to the health inspector? He was likely just doing his job."

"Health inspector?" Max repeats in disbelief. 

"Yes. Mr. Madsen will be conducting a survey of this shop on October 20th. And I recommend that you prepare well, as he is quite a hard man to sway. Without his approval, your shop is done for."

"No," Kate insists. "That can't be right! October 20th is barely a week away! There's no way we can get the shop ready in time."

"Then I'd suggest that you hurry," Ray comments quietly. "There's nothing I can do. Good day, Miss Marsh."

With that the door is slammed shut, bells nearly falling of their ringers. Max's eyes widen, and her gaze slowly falls to the floor. She can't help but wonder about the fate of her coffee shop, as Kate sadly puts up their closing sign.


End file.
